You are My Redemption
by ang3lm3l0dy
Summary: They redeemed each other, he from his sins, she from her loneliness.


They were both touched by the darkness. They look at their reflection and they see a distorted figure, all the demons and ugliness in there

She was deceptively _beautiful_. She looks cold, unforgiving, _merciless_. She looked very much like a queen of snows, of _ice_. But inside she's as _broken_ as a _shattered glass_. And like a shattered glass she is. You may want to pick the pieces up and reconstruct them, but no one has done so because it's _sharp_ and could make you _bleed_.

He looked deceptively _innocent_. He was graceful and charming—everything a prince should be. And he _is_ a prince. A prince of lies and deception and _sadness _and _isolation_. He is like a candle flame, easily outshone by campfires and suns and lamps. Alone, the flame looks _beautifully enchanting_ in the darkness. He tries to get higher, reach something above—but couldn't. Because the cold wind blows, and that flame is easily snuffed out.

"Do you know the story of the candlelight that was too boastful?"

She asked him once, when he was in a prison cell in one of the dungeons of her castle because he tried to usurp the throne, and almost killed the queen and her sister.

_Of course_ he knows. He _always_ knows. He's heard a lot of stories that come with a warning for him, but still he did not listen. _Did not want to_. So he feigned ignorance. He snorts out laughter.

"What is that? Another story for children?"

She looks down, and begins to tell a story of a candlelight who boasted one evening that it shone brighter than the stars, the moon, the sun or even all of them put together. At the very same moment a puff of wind came and blew it out. Someone lit it again and said, _'Shine on, friend candlelight, but hold your tongue. The lights of heaven are never blown out.'_

Silence ensued. The silver moon shone through the bars of his cell.

"Why are you telling me this?" His voice was laced with _confusion_ and _rage_ and _anger_.

"You have several similarities with that candlelight."

He doesn't do anything, just _stare_ at her.

"I could do it, you know _if only_."

Several unspoken words hung in the air: _I'll forgive you, if you only stop pushing me, everyone away._

"Queen of ice, of coldness, of _winter_!" He gritted his teeth. "What right do _you_ have to forgive me?!"

"Stop it," she held unto one of the bars in his prison, her eyes bright and cold. "I had worn a mask too. I could see right through lies."

Just because she, too, deceived people.

"But we deceived people for different reasons, Your Highness," a voice cold, sarcastic, and terrifyingly crazy replied. "You try to save _them_, I try to save myself."

"But it doesn't have to be that way," she looked at him, her back hunched, her lips trembling, she understands because she's been there before. That's when he realizes that like ice she's beautiful and powerful and _dangerous_. And no matter what people say, she still feels isolated in a way.

"You…" _You make me confused and angry at the same time. You also make me fascinated and enchanted and sad…_ But no words pour from his mouth.

"You try to save yourself and yet you don't been know the meaning of salvation," she replied.

"_Salvation?_" he sneered. "What do _you_ know about salvation?"

"I know salvation because someone had saved my people when they were nearly freezing to death from the winter I've brought. I know salvation for someone had saved me from getting killed and…"

He waited for her continue.

"…someone also saved and stopped me from nearly being a _monster_."

"Don't you see?" he asks smugly. "It was all part of an act."

"You say it as if you planned everything," she replied. As if he planned her magic and he planned her sister. She turned around and left him alone in his cell. He hears her heels clack on the floor, the swish of her gown at the tiled floor of the dungeon.

"Why do you even talk to him?"

Her sister asked her, one time after she visited him. He has been kept in their dungeons because his family couldn't care less about him.

"There might be a possibility,"

"A possibility of what? Changing him?"

She doesn't answer her sister, just continues walking to her room. Possibility of what, exactly? She doesn't know.

Of course she was the first one between the two of them who shows her true colors. After all, she was ice and he was fire. Ice melts when near fire.

"In what do I owe the pleasure of another visit from you, My Queen?" He asks, sarcastically.

She was wearing a whitish-blue gown, her favorite one, he notices, because she always wears it.

"It's Summer Festival up there," she replies.

He arches his eyebrow at that. "Then why doesn't Her Majesty go an enjoy it?"

She slumps down, her back supported by the bars of his jail. He sits down too, and if it wasn't for the bars (cold, like _her_) they would have been back to back(he doesn't know why he does it, he just _does_).

"You're the only one who'd actually understand me," she said.

He looks surprised, but of course he _knows_. He _always _does (because they were both called monsters, both isolated, both _alone_).

"My Queen," he asks sarcasm off his voice. "Did you know? I hadn't planned everything to happen this way. I wanted to do it cleanly, honestly," he stopped.

"But then I happened."

"Exactly so," he shrugged. "_You_ happened. You were far too collected to be my queen. I hated you. And now I realize why."

They've settled on a comfortable silence, because they both understand what he exactly means. That they were very much the same and it doesn't matter that he is fire and she is ice because everything he hated about himself are almost the same things he hated about her.

She leaves his cell a little later than she expected.

He was alone in his cell, and he hasn't seen the queen for a few days now. He realizes how much he misses her visits, even though he hates her.

That's when he hears a guard go in.

"The queen has pardoned you. You are free to go."

He can't say anything, surprised that she let him _go_. That she let her _killer_ go.

"May I ask audience of Her Majesty?" he asks, and he doesn't know why, he just needs to talk to her. Because even though he misses his home, he'd rather be here.

"I'm sorry. But the Queen said that once you are pardoned you would be given any request except seeing her."

"Oh," he nods, and he was given room in one of the spare rooms in the left wing of the castle, where all the servants are, because he stays stubborn, and still wants to meet her.

Of course the news of him being stubborn reaches her. She rules here, after all. But she does not want to meet him, not now, when she finally pardoned him. But she should have known. He will _always_ find a way.

It was again in an evening, a bright one at that, the kingdom covered in a blanket of white because it's winter. She simply just couldn't sleep so she goes out to go her ice palace, which wasn't visited for almost a year now.

"Good evening Your Majesty," voice deep and rich, very much unlike the sneers she's received the first time she visited him. She doesn't see him, because of the darkness enveloping him, _cradling_ him in its arms.

"What are you doing here?" she whispers. "Why won't you leave?" and she doesn't know if she's talking about her demons or him. Maybe both. Because whenever she sees him, demons and ghosts come back and she doesn't know what to do, she feels _vulnerable_ and _scared_ and _cowered_.

"Don't run, I wanted to see you," he steps out of the darkness, and she closes her eyes.

"Why don't you look at me?" he asks, and he sounds so desperate that she opens her eyes and he looks exactly like that: desperate and sad and _very much alone_.

She was scared. It felt like she's looking at herself, he mirrors her too much.

"Why…" she tries to ask again, but instead he catches her mouth on his and she tries to pull away, because she's scared of hurting him, but since he's bigger and stronger, she was unsuccessful, and eventually gives up, because she wanted this to happen. She needed this to happen, needed someone to see her as she really is, not just as a monster or the queen or as a sister. She needed someone to _really _see, needed someone to accept her demons, needed someone to understand, and he—_he_ understands too much, knows her too well.

They break apart, she was left breathless. He smiles at her, a real genuine smile, and he leaves her alone, leaving a paper in her hand.

She smiles when she reads what was written on the paper. She quickly watches his retreating figure from the palace's balcony.

There was no need to say goodbye anymore.

_Thank you. Salvation. Forgiveness. I've known the meanings of these words because of you. I'll come back when I'm ready to learn the meaning of love._

There might be demons, lurking, still, but at least they have each other.


End file.
